A 
A 
0 
0 
0 
4 
3 
2 
0 
0 
4 
9 





eH eo A oo TM 


Phin e ewe 

















Ake DR DD Sek ts Us nig al 7) 
‘all a A iin 


UTHERN BRANCH | ‘ 
IVERSITY or CALIFORN’/ 
LIBRARY 
tes ANGELES, CALIF. 
=. 
5 
~.’ 
M 





Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2008 with funding from 
Microsoft Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/acrossyearsOObenn 





2088 THE YEARS 














Across the Years 


BY 








CHARLES ERNEST BENNETT 


BOSTON 
THE STRATFORD COMPANY 
1917 





41193 








Copyright 1917 " 
THE STRATFORD CO., Publishers 
Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 


The Alpine Press, Boston, Mass. 











1) ope ta 
hh 
aint 
z 
? 
' A 
te: { 
f 4 
‘ i 
‘Sal i 
, 
i 
< 





0 IO AE a, 


Oomrr7Eer 


FOREWORD 


HIS little collection of translations and adapta- 
tions from certain Latin poets had its incep- 
tion in a series of attempts to arouse in undergraduate 
students in the classroom some slight sense of the uni- 
versality of Latin poetry. From the point of view of 
the man behind the desk, the translator has long felt 
a pressing need of getting away from the conventional 
and traditional, in the interpretation of Classical 
authors to those who are entering into companionship 
with that glorious and delightful family. This notion 
has been gradually crystallizing into a number of 
efforts, of which this little volume comprises a part, to 
render in English verse some of the gems from the 
Roman bards which have made a special appeal. 

It will be obvious to the most casual reader that 
many of these renderings are not ‘‘translations’’ at 
all; nor do they claim so to be. The author (I cannot 
now consistently say ‘‘translator’’) is fully aware 
that he has generously favored the spirit rather than 
the letter. Whether he has taken liberties with the 
text which may prove unpardonable is for the reader 
to decide. 

C. E. B. 
Amherst, Massachusetts, 
April 9, 1917. 


[ vii | 


ele ald 
ewe S 


a 
4: 





née’, 











y 


CONTENTS 


Foreword 

The Marriage of Pelews atid Thetis 
Pot Luck : 

A Narrow Escape 

Vision of Death 

The Simple Life . 

To the Fountain Bandusia 

To a Light-Fingered Guest . 
Farewell to Love 

Return to Sirmio 

*“All’s Well that Ends Well” 
‘‘Varium et Mutabile”’ 
Love’s Mathematics 

St. Venus’ Eve 

To Chloe 

Hymn to Diana and esp riod : 


A Flight of Fancy (or better, A Paves Flight) . 


Renunciation 

Carpe Diem . 
Tarquin’s Dream . 
The Interpretation 
The Vampire 
Reflections 

“*Exegi Monumentum”’ 


[ ix ] 





ACROSS THE YEARS 


The Marriage of Peleus and Thetis 
(Catullus, 64) 


»™TIS said the pines that erst on Pelion’s height 
Reared their proud heads, o’er Neptune’s 
waves did float 

To Phasis’ floods and proud Aeetes’ land, 

What time that band of chosen youth, the flower 

Of Argive manhood, seeking to bear away 

From Colchian realms the wondrous Fleece of Gold, 

Dared with swift ship to skim the briny sea, 

Sweeping the deep blue ocean-plains with oars of fir. 

For them the Goddess who doth hold her seat 

In topmost city-heights, with her own hand 

Did frame a car to scud before the breeze, 

Fitting the close-matched planks of pine to the eurv- 
ing keel. 

Such was the wondrous craft that first did teach 

Wild Amphitrite of the sailor’s art. 


Searce with its prow had it cleft the wind-swept sea, 
And, vext with oars, the billow gleamed with foam, 
When from the churn of hoary eddies rose 
Fair Nereid faces, daughters of the sea, 

In wonder at the marvel. On that day, 


[1] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


And none beside, did mortal eyes behold 

The fair sea-nymphs, with beauteous bodies bare, 
Breast-deep outstanding from the foaming flood. 
’T was then that Peleus burned with fond desire 
For Thetis, nor did Thetis look with scorn 

On mortal wedlock; and e’en Thetis’ sire 

Did set his seal unto their marriage bond. 


O born in that thrice blessed golden age, 
Ye heroes, hail! sprung from immortal gods; 
Ye noble sons of women, hail again! 
You often in my song will I address, 
And thee, O Peleus, pillar of Thessaly, 
So proudly honoured with the bridal torch, 
To whom e’en Jupiter himself, sire of the gods, 
Did yield his love. For was not Thetis thine, 
Loveliest of Neptune’s lovely daughters she? 
And eke the aged Tethys did consent 
That thou shouldst wed her nursling; yielded too 
Oceanus, whose waters gird the earth. 


When in due time the longed-for day had dawned, 
All Thessaly assembled throngs his home; 
The palace teems with a gladsome company. 
Gifts in their hands they bring, and every face 
Reflects the joy it feels. Deserted now 
Stands Cieros; fair Tempe’s vale they leave, 
And Crannon, and Larissa’s fortressed walls; 


[2] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Pharsalia now the goal of every foot, 

And neath Pharsalian palace roofs they meet. 

None tills the soil; the heifer’s calloused neck 

Grows softened ; now no more the trailing vine 

Is cleared with the curved rake-prongs; the tree no 
more 

Yields to the pruner’s hook its spreading shade 

With far-flung branch; no more the weary steer 

With deep-set plowshare cleaves the stubborn sod ; 

But squalid rust steals o’er the abandoned plows. 


But Peleus’ house, where’er its regal halls 
Unroll their endless vistas to the view, 
Glistens with gleam of gold and silver sheen ; 
Rare ivory displays its dazzling white 
Upon the couches; golden goblets glint 
Along the sumptuous boards; and all the house 
Gleams gay with royal treasure. In its midst 
Is set the happy goddess’ bridal bed 
Of polished Indic ivory, and o’erspread 
With purple tapestry of radiant hue 
Rich with the royal tint of Tyrian shell. 
This beauteous drapery, broidered with the forms 
Of men of other days, with wondrous art 
Portrays those ancient heroes’ glorious deeds. 


For looking forth from Dia’s wave-washed strand. 
While Theseus flees with swift sail-wingéd ship, 


[3] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Fair Ariadne watches, while her heart 

With raging passion swells, nor scarce believes 

What still her eyes behold, as, newly waked 

From treacherous slumber’s thrall, she finds herself 
Lone and deserted on the lonely shore. 

But he, unheeding, flees with churning oars, 
Leaving his perjured vows to the gusty gales. 


But, dimly far, upon the weed-strewn strand, 
With tear-wet eyes — a Maenad carved in stone — 
Stands Minos’ child, and gazes all in vain, 

Her bosom surging with a flood of grief. 

No longer does the slender snood confine 

Her golden hair; no more the filmy veil 

Her bosom hides; no more with rounded zone 

Her swelling breasts are clasped: down fallen all, 
They scatter hither, thither, and the waves 

Toss them before her feet. But neither then 

On fate of snood or floating veil mused she; 

But all on thee, false Theseus, did she bend 

Her heart, her mind, her love-lorn soul. 


Ah! woeful one, 
With what unending griefs thou wert distraught 
E’er since that day when cruel Theseus sailed 
From out Piraeus’ curving bay, and gained 
The island palace of the tyrannous king 
In far Gortyna. For a tale they tell 


[4] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


How once of old, by cruel plague constrained 

To expiate Androgeos’ impious death, 

The strength of her young manhood and the flower 
Of her fair maidens Cecrops’ town was wont 

To send — a feast unto the Minotaur. 

When thus with ills his narrow’d walls were vext, 
Prince Theseus of his own free will proffered 

To render up his life for his dear town, 

If so he might abate the cruel tax 

Of living corpses, borne by the barge of death 
From Cecrops’ land to Crete. 


So in swift ship 
By favoring breezes onward borne, he came 
To haughty Minos and his proud abodes. 
And straight when him the royal maid beheld 
With longing glance — she whom the dainty couch, 
Breathing the balm of Eastern perfumes rare, 
Once cradled in her mother’s soft embrace, 
Like to the myrtle flowers that grow beside 
Eurotas’ streams, or the many-tinted blooms 
That open with the springtide’s balmy breeze — 
So turned she not from him her kindling gaze 
Till through her inmost marrow spread the flame 
And raged insatiate. Ah! thou holy boy, 
Who, hard of heart, dost ever urge men on 
From misery to madness, mingling woes 
And joys with careless hand,—thou too, O queen 


[5] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Of Golgoi and Idalium’s leafy groves; 

On what a surge of woe ye tossed the maid 
Distraught, and sighing for her fair-haired guest. 
What dread she harboured in her fainting soul! 
How often, in her dull despair, she went 

More palely sallow than the sheen of gold, 

When Theseus, eager to face the monster foe, 
Went forth to death or glorious victory. 


Yet not all fruitless or in vain the gifts 
She vowed to heaven, as with whispered prayer 
Her altar flame she kindled. For as when 
A sturdy oak, that waves its gnarléd boughs 
On Taurus’ top, or huge cone-bearing pine 
With pitchy stem — torn by the wild wind-storm 
That twists with its blast the mighty trunk — with 
roots 
Uptorn, down falls its mighty length, 
And crushes all beneath it far and wide :— 
So neath the valiant blows of Theseus fell 
The cruel Minotaur, tossing in vain 
His horns to the unresponsive winds. Thence back 
With high success the Prince retraced his steps, 
Guiding his errant feet by a slender thread, 
Lest, as he sought to find his dubious way 
From out the mazes of the Labyrinth, 
His aimless wandering might work him woe. 


[6] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


But why, departing from my earlier theme, 
Need I relate at further length how she, 
A daughter, fied her aged father’s face, 
Her sister’s arms, her mother’s fond embrace, 
Who with unbounded love was wont to joy 
In her unhappy daughter — and preferred 
The love of Theseus to all these; or how, 
Borne in his bark, to Dia’s foam-white shores 
She came; while he, her false and faithless lord, 
With careless heart departing, left her there, 
Her eyes with slumber sealed. And oft, ’tis said, 
Her passionate soul to frenzied madness stung, 
Shrill cries heart-deep she uttered ; and anon 
Would sadly scale the rugged cliffs to seek 
An outlook o’er the vast sea-floods; or now, 
Raising her clinging garments to her knee, 
She braved the restless tide that washed the shore; 
And in her dire extremity of woe 
These words she uttered, while the chilling sobs 
Fell from her tear-wet lips :— 


‘‘Was it for this, 
Thou false one — this, false Theseus, thou didst tear 
Me from my native shores, to leave me here 
On this deserted strand? Ah! is it thus 
Thou dost depart, unmindful of the gods, 
Whose majesty thou slightest, bearing home 
Thy perjured vows? Alas! Could nothing bend 


[7] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Thy cruel heart? Hadst thou no pity there, 

That thy relentless soul might deign to look 

Upon me with compassion? For not these 

The promises that once thy lips did give — 

Not this it was thou badst my poor heart hope, 

But joyous bonds of wedded bliss. All these 

The winds of heaven scatter into naught. 
Henceforth let none of womankind put trust 

In oath of man, or hope for faithful vows 

From false mankind. For while their eager mind 
Strives to attain its end, nothing they fear 

To swear; no specious promises they spare. 

But when their lustful mind has had its will, 
Naught reck they then of vows or perjuries. 

For thee, forsooth, when thou wert all but whelmed 
In the maze of death, I rescued, and could brook 

To see thee slay my brother, so I prove 

Not false to thee, thou false one, in thy need! 

But now, for my reward, I shall be giv’n 

A prey for beast and carrion-fowl to tear; 

No lofty mound shall cover me in death. 

What tigress bare thee neath some lonely crag? 
What sea conceived and spewed thee from its waves? 
What Syrtis? Scylla? or Charybdis dire, 

O thou who such a guerdon dost return 

For thy sweet life? E’en though thy heart’s desire 
Were not to wed me, since thou seem’st to dread 

Thy stern sire’s dread decrees, thou might’st at least 


[8] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Have led me with thee to thy home, where I, 
Thy slave, in willing service would abide, 
To lave thy snowy feet, or spread for thee 
Thy couch with purple draperies. 


“Yet why, 
Distraught with woe, do I lament in vain 
To the unresponsive winds, which, void of sense, 
Nor heed nor answer give to my complaints? 
But he ere now toils in mid sea, nor aught 
Of life along this lonely strand appears. 
Thus in o’erweening scorn in my last hour 
Doth bitter Fate begrudge to lend her ears 
Unto my sad lament. Almighty Jove, 
Would that in olden time those fateful ships 
From Cecrops’ land had never touched our shores; 
Nor, bearing to the unquelled Minotaur 
His dreadful toll, had that false mariner 
E’er moored to Crete his twisted ropes —that wretch 
Who neath fair seemings hid his cruel schemes! 
Ah! would he ne’er a welcome here had found 
Within our halls! 


‘‘Wor whither shall I turn? 
Or in what hope find refuge from despair? 
To Ida’s mountains shall I fly? But no! 
For stretching far between with wide abyss 
The angry sea divides us. Can I hope 


[9 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


A father’s aid, whom I of mine own will 
Abandoned to pursue this youth, befouled 

With mine own brother’s blood? Or can I hope 
For solace in a husband’s faithful love 

Who flees me now, bending his yielding oar 

In the swirling flood? Nor aught of shelter gives 
This shore, this lonely isle; e’en o’er the sea 

No certain pathway of escape appears, 

But angry waves surround on every side. 

No way of flight — no hope; silent is all, 

And all deserted — all betokens death. 


‘‘But yet mine eyes shall not be dimmed in death, 
Nor sense from my worn body take its flight, 
Till from the gods I seek just recompense 
For my betrayal, and in my latest hour 
Heaven’s faith implore. Ye dread divinities, 
Ye who with speedy punishment avenge 
Men’s deeds — daughters of Night, Eumenides, 
Whose front with hissing serpent locks enwreathed 
Blazons the wrath your raging bosoms breathe — 
Come hither! Hither haste! Hear my complaints, 
That from my inmost heart I needs must pour 
In helpless passion, blind with frenzied rage. 
And since from out my very being’s core 
They spring, let not, I pray, my agonies 
Unheeded fall: but with the selfsame mind 
As Theseus left me here — with like intent 


[ 10 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


May his forgetfulness on him recoil 
And bring destruction on himself and his!’’ 


As from her grief fraught breast these plaints she 
poured, 

Seeking requital for his heartless deeds, 
The King of Heaven in sovereign majesty 
Did nod assent — that nod before which earth 
And the awestruck Ocean trembled, and the stars 
Were shaken in the glittering firmament. 
And Theseus now, his faithless mind o’erspread 
With dark forgetfulness, from out his heart 
Let slip the careful mandates which till now 
He had preserved with steadfast loyalty. 
For to his sorrowing sire no joyful sign 
He lifted, to announce his safe return 
To the harbor of Erechtheus. For ’tis said 
That ere Aegeus gave to the winds his son 
To waft afar from the Maiden Goddess’ town, 
These were the mandates with his last embrace 
He gave the youth :— 


‘‘Q precious son of mine, 
Dearer to me by far than length of days, 
But late restored to glad my failing years — 
My son, whom now perforce I must dismiss 
To doubtful hazards — since my own hard fate 
And thy impetuous youth tear thee once more 


[11 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


From thy reluctant sire, whose dimming eyes 
Not yet have had their fill beholding thee ; 

Not with rejoicing will I let thee go, 

Nor will I suffer thee to bear the signs 

Of prosperous state: but from my heart will pour 
Full many a plaint, staining my hoary hairs 
With dust and ashes. And when this is done, 
Dark sails I’ll hang upon thy swaying mast; 
For well befits our grief and burning love 

The canvas darkened with Iberian dye. 

And yet, if she who keeps Itone’s height 

And of her grace defends Erechtheus’ house 
And all our race, doth grant thee to imbrue 
Thy hand in that foul monster’s blood, then see 
That these my mandates live inviolate 

Deep stored within thy unforgetful breast, 
Nor any time efface them. So when first 

Thine eyes behold our cliffs, let every yard 
Put off its garb of death, and snow-white sails 
Be hoisted by the twisted ropes, that I, 

So soon as I behold, with gladdened heart 

May recognize afar the joyful sign 

That tells thy safe return in prosperous season.”’ 


These charges, held at first with steadfast heart, 
From Theseus slipt away, even as clouds 
Are wafted by the breath of summer winds 
From the summit of a snow-clad mountain peak. 


[ 12 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


And Theseus’ sire, distraught with grief and love, 
Seeking a watch-place on the topmost tower, 

His anxious eyes with constant weeping dimmed, 
Soon as his gaze beheld the dun-stain’d sail 
Plunged headlong from the summit of the cliff, 
Deeming his Theseus lost by cruel fate. 

And so when Theseus, flush’d with victory, came 
To his father’s house — a house of mourning now — 
On his own head recoiled the grief that he 

With heart forgetful dealt to Minos’ child; 

While she, still gazing toward his vanished sail, 
Revolved unnumbered cares within her breast. 


But broidered on another part there came 
Swift bounding blooming Bacchus, with his train 
Of Satyrs and Sileni, Nysa-born, 
Seeking thee, Ariadne, and aflame 
With love for thee. The while his votaries 
In mad confusion and with minds aflame 
Rushed wildly on, to the ery of ‘‘Evoe!’’ 
And ‘‘Evoe!’’ erying as they tossed their heads. 
Some waved the wreath-crowned thyrsi; some did toss 
The rended limbs of bullocks; some had bound 
With writhing snakes their necks, while others bore 
In state the mystic caskets that concealed 
From eyes profane the Bacchic mysteries. 
Others with palms upraised beat on the drums, 
Or from the burnished cymbals summoned forth 


[13 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


A martial clangor; while in others’ hands 
The horns blew forth their loud and raucous blasts, 
And the Phrygian flute droned its horrid wail. 


Such were the broidered figures that adorned 
The splendid tapestry, whose clinging folds 
Covered the happy goddess’ bridal bed. 


When now the wondering youth had had their fill 
Of eager gazing, they began to yield 
In favor of the blessed gods. And now, 
As Zephyrus, roughening with his morning breeze 
The placid sea, stirs from their sleep the waves, 
As neath the threshold of the wandering Sun 
The golden Dawn arises — and at first 
Slowly they heave, rocked by the gentle breeze, 
And lightly plash with lilting laughter’s sound ; 
But with the freshening wind, thicker they crowd, 
And gleam in the rosy light as they float away ;— 
So from the shelter of the royal porch 
Homeward the folk with wandering feet depart. 


First of the gods, from Pelion’s rugged height 
With sylvan gifts, Chiron the Centaur came. 
For all the lovely flowers the meadows bear, 

Or Thessaly’s towering mountain heights, and all 
That warm Favonius with his kindly breath 
Summons to life beside the running streams — 


[a4] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


All these in sweet confusion did he bear; 
And Peleus’ house, caressed with soft perfume, 
Breaks forth in smiles. 


Then straightway Peneos came 
Leaving his verdant Tempe, with its fringe 
Of dusky forest, to the thronging choirs 
Of lithe Magnesian maids in Doric dance. 
Nor empty-handed comes he; for he brings 
Tall beeches, by their roots uptorn, nor lacks 
The smooth-stemmed laurel, or the nodding plane, 
The poplar, and the towering cypress. These 
In close array he ranges round the house ; 
And sheltered by the tender foliage, 
The entrance stands a mass of living green. 


Next comes Prometheus of the crafty mind, 
Wearing more lightly with the passing years 
The traces of his ancient punishment, 

When from the rugged Scythian crags he hung 
With fettered limbs. Then came the sire of gods, 
His consort, and his offspring, save for thee, 

O Phoebus, and thy sister who doth dwell 

In Idrus’ heights. For equally with thee 

On Peleus did thy sister look with scorn, 

Nor deigned to honour with her company 

Fair Thetis’ marriage. 


[19 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


But when these had bent 
Their limbs along the couches, and the board 
Was piled with varied viands, in each pause 
That marked the feast, the aged Parcae sang 
In strain prophetic, while their palsied frames 
With tremulous movements swayed. Their tottering 
limbs 
In snow-white robes were wrapt, while at their heels 
A purple border ran; but flaming red 
The bands that bound each wrinkled brow; the while 
Their hands, of custom, plied their endless toil. 
The left hand held the distaff, wrapped about 
With soft wool-flocks; the right now deftly drew 
The fibres, and with fingers upward turned 
Shaped them with care, and now with down-turned 
thumb 
Twisted the ever lengthening thread, and twirled 
The spindle, poised by its rounded dise. Anon 
The biting tooth kept smooth the slender thread, 
While to their dry lips clung the bitten shreds 
But now outstanding from the thread they smoothed. 
Before their feet the soft white fleeces lay 
In woven osier baskets. As they span, 
With thin, shrill voices, from their lips divine 
They poured this song prophetic, which no age 
To come shall e’er accuse of falsity. 


[ 16 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


‘“Thou sturdy pillar of Emathia’s state, 
Who now thy signal glory dost increase 
By mighty deeds, and destined yet to be 
More glorious in thy son — attend the song 
The Sisters sing thee on this gladsome day. 
But ye, who shape the web of Destiny, 

Fly, my spindles, fly, drawing the threads. 


‘“Now Hesperus shall come, and bring to thee 
Fulfilment of the bridegroom’s fond desire ; 
And with that favoring star shall come the bride, 
To twine her lovely arms about thy neck 
And charm thy soul with the sway of yielding love. 
Fly, my spindles, fly, drawing the threads. 


‘“No home ere this such loves has sheltered ; ne’er 
Did love unite fond hearts with such a bond 
As that which joins fair Thetis to her lord, 
And brings to Peleus now his goddess bride. 

Fly, my spindles, fly, drawing the threads. 


‘‘Wrom you shall spring Achilles, who shall know 
No eraven fear, and to his foemen known 
Not by his back, but by his mighty breast ; 
And oft victorious in the race, outstrip 
The flame-swift footsteps of the fleeting doe. 
Fly, my spindles, fly, drawing the threads. 


[17 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 
‘“No hero shall compare with him in war 
When Phrygian streams shall run with Trojan blood 
And when, after long siege of Troy-town’s walls, 
False Pelops’ heir shall lay the city waste. 
Fly, my spindles, fly, drawing the threads. 


’ 


‘*His acts of prowess and his glorious deeds 
Shall mothers oft attest, as they perform 
The last sad rites of their own sons, the while 
From their bowed heads they tear the hoary locks 
And beat with feeble hands their withered breasts. 
Fly, my spindles, fly, drawing the threads. 


‘‘For as the reaper, mid the dense wheat ears, 
Mows down the grain-fields yellowing neath the sun, 
So he, with steel relentless, shall lay low 
The mighty corpses of the sons of Troy. 

Fly, my spindles, fly, drawing the threads. 


‘““Seamander’s waters shall attest his deeds, 
As swift it rolls to join the Hellespont ; 
When, choked with weltering heaps of warriors slain, 
The deep, dark stream runs warm with mingled blood. 
Fly, my spindles, fly, drawing the threads. 


““She too shall know him, who shall be assigned 
A prey to death, when the high-builded pyre 
Shall claim the stricken maiden’s snowy limbs. 

Fly, my spindles, fly, drawing the threads. 


[ 18 J 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


“*For soon as ever cruel Fate’s decree 
Shall grant the war-worn sons of Greece to break 
The Trojan city’s wall, by Neptune reared, 
The lofty tomb shall drink Polyxena’s blood, 
Who, like a victim bowing neath the sword, 
With fainting limbs shall fall — a headless trunk. 
Fly, my spindles, fly, drawing the threads. 


‘*Haste then to join the fond delights of love; 
Seal now the happy compact, and bring forth 
The goddess bride unto her waiting lord. 

Fly, my spindles, fly, drawing the threads. 


‘‘No more in lonely maiden state shall pine 
The bride; no more her anxious mother fear 
The woes of rending discord for her own, 

But dream of happy children of her child. 

Fly, my spindles, fly, drawing the threads.”’ 


Such were the songs of joyous prophecy 
The Parcae sang of yore from breast divine. 
For in those days of old the blessed gods, 
Ere yet their worship was by mortals spurned, 
Scorned not to mingle in the homes of men 
And show themselves to reverent mortal eyes. 
For e’en the sire of gods would oft descend 
Again to earth, whene’er on festal days 
His solemn rites came round, and from his throne 


[19 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Within his glorious temple would behold 

An hundred bulls strewn prone upon the ground. 
Oft roving Liber, on Parnassus’ height, 

Himself came forth to lead his roving bands 

Of yelling Thyiads with their tossing hair; 

While trooping eagerly from out their town 

All Delphi joyously acclaimed the god 

With smoking altars. Oft in the strife of war 
Mars, or swift Triton’s queen, or Vengeance dire 
Themselves did lead the arméd hosts of men. 

But now, since earth is steeped in lawless crime, 
And Greed has banished Justice from men’s souls,— 
When brothers dye their hands in brothers’ blood ; 
When sons no more the loss of parents mourn, 
And lustful sires conspire to slay their sons 
That they may lie in beds of nameless guilt; 
When mothers dwell in shameless infamy 

With the unwitting sons themselves have borne, 
Nor fear to offend their proud ancestral gods — 
Vext with such deeds in wild confusion wrought, 
The gods have turned from us their favoring care; 
Wherefore no more they deign to gather here 

In such assemblies, nor to mortal eyes 

As once of old, appear in light of day. 


[ 20 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Pot Luck 
(Catullus, 13) 


IGHT royally, Fabullus mine, 
One of these days with me you'll dine, 

If you'll but bring, when you appear, 
Fair maid, good wine, fresh wit, good cheer. 
These, I repeat, if you will bring, 
Old friend, you’ll banquet like a king; 
For when Catullus’ fortune ebbs, 
His purse is full — of spider webs! 
But of true love you'll get a load, 
And all that’s gay and a la mode. 
I’ll give you perfumes for your hair 
That Cupid’s self bestowed my fair. 
You'll pray, I swear, when you sniff those, 
The gods may make you one big NOSE! 


[ 21 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


A Narrow Escape 
(Horace, Odes, II, 13) 


H"* reckoned his Arbor Day Friday, 
The thirteenth at that, Ill be bound; 
At no sort of sacrilege shied he 
Who planted you here in my ground. 


Who was it, old stump? Some assassin, 
Who knifed one he’d saved from a wreck 
Or caused his old granddad to pass in 
His checks by a twist of his neck? 


? 


Some heathen concocter of magic 
Set up this infernal machine, 

And timed it, with irony tragic, 
To fall on mine innocent bean. 


Us humans can never be certain, 
Though we try to sift faney from fact, 
What hour Fate may ring down the curtain 
On our poor little vaudeville act. 


No use to stay home, with the notion 
That Neptune will spare you his wrath; 
You miss a cold grave in the ocean, 
And slip on the soap in the bath. 


[ 22 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Dodge War, lest a bullet may dent you— 
A splinter will land in your eye, 

Or a brick from a chimney present you 
A pass to the Sweet By and By. 


Orb me, how I missed by an eyebrow 
A bid to Proserpina’s tea, 

Where Alcaeus and Sappho the highbrow 
Give matinée concerts at three. 


I almost heard Cerberus baying, 
And witnessed poor Tantalus’ toils, 
And gazed on the Furies, displaying 
The latest in serpentine coils. 


Some sight! Just imagine it, can’t you? 
Old Orion the hunter to boot. 

I’d like to have seen ’em, I grant you, 
But I don’t like the single track route. 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Vision of Death 
(Horace, Odes, II, 14) 


WIFTLY, alas! O Postumus, Postumus, 
Glide by the years in their feverish flight ; 
Age lingers never, nor heedeth our piety 
Death in his conquering might. 
E’en though in hundreds victims thou numberest, 
Daily thy life from the grave to redeem, 
Merciless, pitiless, Pluto still mocketh thee, 
Lord of the turbulent stream. 


Dark is that stream, yet all shall encounter it, 
Drawn by a doom unchanging and sure ; 
None shall escape, be he pauper or potentate, 
Prince or the veriest boor. 


Vainly we shun grim War with its slaughtering, 
Vainly the wave and the tempest’s wild breath; 
Vain is our fear of the blight of the eastern wind, 
Laden with fever and death. 


[ 24 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Soon to Cocytus, sullenly wandering 
, Down through the darkness, we too must descend, 
One with the band ever wearily, hopelessly 

Toiling with never an end. 


Lands, home and loved ones, thou must abandon them, 
Gardens and orchards that gladden thy way; 
There shall no trees save the cypress funereal 
Follow their lord of a day. 


Worthier heirs thy wines shall be squandering, 
Carefully guarded with bolt and with bar, 
Recklessly wasting thy costliest vintages, 
Flinging thy treasure afar. 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


The Simple Life 
(Horace, Odes, I, 20) 


LD friend, don’t think that you shall 
drink 
Out here your juice of Bacchus: 
Cheap Sabine wines in earthen steins 
You'll sip with Uncle Flaceus. 


That label? Pshaw! It gives éclat 
When friends inspect my cellar ; 
But well you may recall the day 
I set the jug to mellow. 


Two seats in ‘‘A’’ at matinée 
I’d saved by wise selection, 
And gay of heart, with early start 
We sought our chosen section. 


As down the aisle in single file 
We walked with modest bearing, 
We little knew, we careless two, 
That all the folk were staring, 


[ 26 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Till all the crowd, with clamor loud, 
Their stone-carved benches spurning, 
From tier to tier aroused the cheer 
That welcomed your returning. 
*& * * * * 
Then keep, say I, your ‘‘ Extra Dry”’ 
For those of Fortune’s favor; 
No stout Falern or old Sauterne 
Shall lend my cups a flavor. 


| 27 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


To the Fountain Bandusia 
(Horace, Odes, III, 13) 


ANDUSIA’S fountain, crystal clear, 
Sweet flowers, and wine of yester-year 
Shall be thy worthy meed; 
And with tomorrow’s rising morn 
A firstling kid, whose budding horn 
Of love and wanton strife doth warn, 
Shall for thee bleed. 


In vain his lusty pomp and pride, 
For with his life-blood’s crimson tide 
Thy waters he shall stain, 
That still the Dog-Star’s withering heat 
May enter not thy cool retreat, 
Where cattle quaff thy waters sweet 
In thirsty train. 


Thy name shall live, O beauteous spring ; 
All men shall listen while I sing 
My love and reverence deep. 
Thy dusky cave, with oaks o’erhung, 
Thy mossy rocks shall e’er be sung, 
Whence loud with many a babbling tongue 
Thy waters leap. 


[ 28 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


To a Light-Fingered Guest 
(with a penchant for Madeira table linen). 


(Catullus, 12) 


HAT for, Marrucin’, when you coma my house, 
and we maka da eat and da drink, 

You steala my nap’ when I turna my back? You call 
dat a joke? Wat you tink? 

You cheapa da skate, you maka meestak’. You act 
lik’ a beega da fool. 

You no beliv’ me? Den mebba bimeby you beliva your 
brodder Paol’. 

Eef he can bring back what you steal, he will geev a 
beeg dollar right offa da bat; 

He knowa da jok’, and he full of da fun, but b’liv’ 
me he no standa dat! 

Aha! I get even! You no senda back da nap’ dat you 
pinch offa me, 

I send you tree hondred worse poems as dees; so geev 
him back presto! You see? 

My nap’ ees no worth beega money, I know; I can buy 
him at John Wanamak’ ; 

But dees one, I like him. For why? He was giv’, and 
I keep him for frensheepa sake. 


[ 29 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


My cousin Giusepp’ and my frienda Anton’, dey send 
me a dozzen from Spain. 

I lika my fren’—I lika da nap’. Lik’ da nose on your 
face dat is plain! 


[ 30 J 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Farewell to Love 
(Horace, Odes, IIT, 26) 


HILE late I lived a slave to Beauty’s eyes, 
No doughtier champion trod the lists of Love; 
But now yon wayside shrine that smiles above 
Fair Venus’ image claims my sacrifice. 


Farewell, my arms, my lyre! Love’s warfare o’er, 
With sighs I yield ye to Our Lady’s eare. 
Lie there, my smouldering torch! My bar, lie there, 
Thou terror once of many a close-locked door! 


O thou in Cyprus’ isle who dwell’st apart, 
And lands that know no blight of winter’s snow, 
Deal yet, I pray, one little stinging blow, 

And touch, O touch my Chloe’s still stubborn heart! 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Return to Sirmio 
(Catullus, 31) 


AIR Sirmio, of isles and all-but-isles 
The loveliest gem, whate’er in limpid mere 
Or boundless Ocean, Neptune’s realms appear — 
What poignant joy my longing heart beguiles, 
To see thee now, after the weary miles 
Of Thynian plains. Dream I? Or stand I here? 
O what than care’s surcease can be more dear, 
When wearied minds lay down their load bewhiles, 
And worn with toil we find our toil’s reward, 
By our own hearth our wonted place to take, 
And rest on bed long sought, no more to roam ? 
Hail! lovely Sirmio! Joy with thy lord! 
Rejoice! ye waters of the Lydian lake! 
Peal forth in laughter, all ye sounds of home! 


[ 32 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


“All’s Well that Ends Well” 
(Horace, Odes, III, 9) 


HE 


" HEN I was yo’ honey lamb, 
An’ no black coon was twinin’ 
His arms around yo’ neck, yo’ Sam 
Des beat de stars a-shinin’.”’ 


SHE 


‘When I with you was all de go, 
An’ not dat hussy Chloe, 

Miss Lydia Liza Jackson Snow 
Des simply boiled with joy!’’ 


HE 


‘*Mis’ Chloe, she’s ma baby now. 
Sing? Laws! dat gal’s a winner! 

An’ play de ole pianner — Wow! 
Fo’ her I’d lose ma dinner !”’ 


SHE 


“‘T’m sweet on Mistah Rastus Brown — 
His ole man rolls in money ; 


[33 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


An’ fo’ dat boy I sho’ would drown, 
If I could save ma honey!’’ 


He 


‘‘But would yo’ really bounce dat boy 
An’ be mah chickabiddy, 

If I should shake dat triflin’ Chloe, 
An’ take back mah own Liddy ?”’ 


SHE 


‘“He sho’ am han’some, dat ’ar coon, 
An’ you are light as fedder ; 

But if yo’ want me, I am you’n — 
We'll live an’ die togedder.”’ 


[ 34 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


“Varium et Mutabile”’ 
(Catullus, 70) 


Y Ladye sayes ther’s nonne with whome she’d 
rather wedde 
Than me, though e’en Jove’s selfe from Heaven 
soughte her; 
She sayes, but Womanne’s Wordes to eager Lover 
sedde 
Wer better writte in Wynde or runnynge Water. 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Love’s Mathematics 
(Catullus, 5) 


LESBIA mine, 
If life and love be ours one little day, 
We'll laugh at strait-laced dotards’ idle prating, 
Its foolish worth a single farthing rating — 
If life and love be ours one little day! 


Though suns may set, they sink to rise anew, 
But once our life’s brief light hath found its setting, 
There falls the Night that brings one long forgetting, 
Though suns may set, and sink to rise anew. 


Give me a thousand kisses, Sweet, again 
A hundred more, the thousand then repeated, 
A hundred yet, and when the sum’s completed, 
Give me a thousand kisses, Sweet, again. 


When we have reached our rapturous thousands’ 
end, 
We'll mix the number, lest we may be knowing, 
Or envious folk their evil spells be throwing 
When we have reached our rapturous thousands’ 
end — 
O Lesbia mine! 


[ 36 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


St. Venus’ Eve 


(‘‘Pervigilium Veneris’’) 


a shall love who knows not loving; who hath 
loved shall love again. 
Spring new-born! Spring comes with singing! All 
the world is young with Spring! 
Springtime brings fond lovers’ meetings; birds in 
Spring their spousals sing. 
E’en the woodland flings her tresses wide to greet 
the bridegroom shower. 
With the morrow Love’s Appointress, neath her 
shaded sylvan bower 
Twines her many a verdurous arbor of the tender 
myrtle spray, 
For tomorrow Queen Dione high enthroned shall 
hold her sway. 
Soon shall love who knows not loving; who hath loved 
shall love again. 


She, her flowery jewels strewing o’er the crimson- 
ing lap of earth, 

With the Zephyr’s genial breezes warms the swell- 
ing buds to birth; 


[ 37 | 


41723 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


She, our Queen, where’er she passes, showers her 
gifts with kindly grace, 

Dropping dews of pearly radiance in the Night- 
Wind’s fragrant trace. 

Glimmering tear-drops hang a-quiver, poised on 
every leaf and thorn — 

Jewelled beads that start and tremble, eager for the 
coming morn. 

Star-mist they, from heaven distilling when the 
night is hushed in sleep, 

Tenderly the shy buds wooing from their virgin 
hoods to peep. 

Soon shall love who knows not loving; who hath loved 

shall love again. 


Lo! From out her petalled crimson flames the 
blush of rose new-born! 

Tis the Goddess bids her hasten, whispering ’tis her 
wedding morn. 

Venus’ blood her hue engenders, kisses Cupid’s self 
doth know, 

Jewels’ gleam, and flame of fire, touched with flush 
of sunrise glow; 

Yet tomorrow shall behold her, radiant bride, all 
shame apart, 

Open wide the crimson glory hid within her maiden 
heart. 


[ 38 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Soon shall love who knows not loving; who hath loved 
shall love again. 


"Tis Her voice that through the greenwood calls her 
fairy company. 

In their train a Boy goes dancing, mingling in their 
maiden glee. 

‘‘Think ye Love would fare a-joying with his ar- 
rows in array ? 

Forth, ye Nymphs! Love leaves his weapons — Love 
is keeping holiday! 

All unarmed I bade him sally ; naked bade him forth 
to go, 

Lest with torch or bow or arrow to the heedless 
work he woe.”’ 

Hearken, O ye Nymphs, beware him! For is Cupid 
fair to see, 

And when naked goes he roving, Love is most in 
panoply. 

Soon shall love who knows not loving; who hath loved 

shall love again. 


Lo! They come at Venus’ sending — maids as pure 
as thou, I ween: . 

‘Single is the boon we crave thee: go thy way, O 
Delian Queen! 

Let the blood of slaughtered wild things sully not 
our sacred glade, 


[ 39 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


And untrodden be the flowers smiling neath yon 
emerald shade. 

Gladly would She call thee hither, could she bend 
thy modesty ; 

Gladly would She bid thee welcome, did her rites 
accord with thee. 

Then in wonder shouldst thou see them, roving 
bands from hill and dale, 

Gathering thrice in nightly revel, ranging through 
thy woodland vale. 

Girt with fragrant flowery garlands mid the myrtle 
bowers they throng; 

Ceres lends her gracious presence, Bacchus and the 
Lord of Song. 

All the night shall wake with music — midnight 
shall be turned to-day. 

Let Dione rule the forest — Delian maiden, go thy 
way !’’ 

Soon shall love who knows not loving; who hath loved 

shall love again. 


High amid the flowers of Hybla bids the Goddess 
rear her throne; 

There with Graces gathered round her shall she 
make her mandates known. 

Hybla, lavish all thy blossoms, all the gladsome 
season bears; 


[ 40 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Hybla, don thy flowery garment, wide as Enna’s 
plainland wears. 

Hither maids of field and mountain shall the echo- 
ing summons bring, 

They who dwell in grove and forest, they who 
haunt the stream and spring. 

Thus doth call the Goddess-mother of the elf with 
wings of dove; 

Yet she bids them ne’er to trust him — cruel little 
naked Love! 

Soon shall love who knows not loving; who hath loved 

shall love again. 


With tomorrow comes the dawning of the World’s 
first wedding-day, 

When from springtime clouds descending, quicken- 
ing all the year to May, 

Streamed the rain, the gentle bridegroom, to the 
bridal lap of earth, 

Stirring all her mighty being to the wakening throes 
of birth. 

Then from dripping dews of heaven and the ocean’s 
crested foam, 

Rising from the beryl caverns where the strange 
green sea-things roam, 

Sprang Dione, wave-engendered, sired by the fruit- 
ful rain. 


[ 41 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Soon shall love who knows not loving; who hath loved 
shall love again. 


She, Creatress of all being, who with potent, mystic 
skill, 

Deep enthroned in flesh and spirit moulds all Nature 
to her will, 

Poured her quickening life-tides flooding through 
the sky and sea and earth, 

All the wondering world enduing with the new- 
found ways of birth. 

Soon shall love who knows not loving; who hath loved 

shall love again. 


’T was Her hand, her Trojans leading mid the Latins 
to abide, 

To her princely Phrygian offspring gave a fair Lau- 
rentian bride; 

Gave to Mars the cloistered virgin, that from out 
their seed divine 

Ramnes and Quirites springing should sustain her 
godlike line 

Till the race of kingly heroes there with Romulus 
begun 

Flower at last in mighty Caesar, glorious sires’ more 
glorious son. 

Soon shall love who knows not loving; who hath loved 

shall love again. 


[ 42 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


All the countryside rejoices, touched with Venus’ 
magic spell; 

Country-born Love’s self is reckoned, child of 
Venus, who, they tell, 

While the fields to life were breaking, clasped him 
in her warm embrace, 

With the soft caress of blossoms nurturing him to 
strength and grace. 

Soon shall love who knows not loving; who hath loved 

shall love again. 


Lo! Their spacious flanks reposing neath the broom- 
corn’s pluméd fronds, 

Drowse the bulls in calm contentment, joyous in 
their nuptial bonds. 

With their lords in noonday shadow stand the 
flocks of bleating ewes; 

All the throbbing air is vocal with the wild birds’ 
woodland Muse. 

Now by every pool and river shrill the swans in 
chorus blent, 

While from out the poplar’s shadow thrills the 
nightingale’s lament, 

Till the listening world in rapture hears a song of 
love confest, 

And forgets the pain that lingers neath the singer’s 
wounded breast. 


[43 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


She doth sing. Shall I be silent? When shall come 
my Spring again ? 

When, as doth the twittering swallow, shall I lift 
my joyous strain? 

For my Muse is lost in silence — Phoebus looks on 
me no more — 

E’en as silence doomed Amyclae with the foeman 
at her door. 

Soon shall love who knows not loving; who hath loved 

shall love again. 


[ 44 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


To Chloe 
(Horace, Odes I, 23) 


HOU shun’st me, Chloe, like timid fawn that 
flees 
To seek its mother on the pathless hill, 
With foolish fear of every passing breeze 
That stirs the rustling leaves with whispers still. 


For if with quivering leaf the bramble shakes 
Wind-stirred, or neath the brier the lizards dart, 
Its little frame with sudden terror quakes, 
And fears unbounded fill its trembling heart. 


No Afric lion, I, nor tiger wild, 

That I should seek to crush thee. Leave, I pray, 
Thy mother’s side, for thou’rt no more a child, 

But ripe for lover’s kisses e’en today. 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Hymn to Diana and Apollo 
(Horace, Odes, I, 21) 


ING Diana, tender maidens, 
Youths, the unshorn Cynthian sing; 
Hymn Latona in your praises, 
Deeply loved of Heaven’s King. 


Sing the Queen of stream and forest, 
Who in Algid’s summit dwells, 
Dusky pines of Erymanthus, 
Or in Cragus’ verdant dells. 


Let the praise of beauteous Tempe, 
Delos, too, your song inspire, 
Birthplace of our King Apollo, 
Lord of quiver and of lyre. 


Lift your prayers that they, averting 
Famine, plague and war’s wild woes 

From our Caesar and his people, 
Send them forth upon our foes. 


[ 46 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


A Flight of Fancy (or better, A Fancy Flight) 
(Being a wilful perversion of Horace, Odes, II, 20) 


OME day, my friends, you’ll see me sail 
On pinions proud as any eagle; 
1’ll rise above this tearful vale, 
No common seagull. 


Though I be short on pedigree, 
I, whom you call your friend, Maecenas, 
No Styx shall sever you from me, 
And roll between us. 


Hooray! The gooseflesh on my shins 
Is growing, “less my eyes deceive me, 
And swansdown on my neck begins — 
Some bird, believe me! 


I’ll soar above the Bosphorus — 
Perhaps survey Sahara later — 
Safer a heap than Icarus, 
The aviator. 


[ 47 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


The heathen Chinks shall gape with awe 
And roll their eyes at what I’ll tell ’em, 
And he who drinks the reservoir 
Of ancient Pelham. 


Then hang no crepe upon my knob: 
I need no tears that fall in showers, 
No male quartet, or mourners’ sob — 
Friends omit flowers. 


[ 48 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Renunciation 
(Catullus, 8) 


OME, poor Catullus, cease to play the fool, 
And that thou seest lost set down as lost ; 

Enough that once the sun shone fair for thee, 
When thou didst follow where thy loved one led — 
Aye, loved as none will e’er be loved again. 
For then with playful nothings sped the hours 
So dear to thee, and to the maid, I ween, 
Not all amiss. Aye, fair thy sun then shone. 
But now cold is her love; thyself be cold, 
Nor chase a dream that flees, nor wretched live, 
But turn thy heart to stone, live on, endure! 
Farewell, my love! Catullus now is strong, 
Nor e’er unbid will seek or ask for thee. 
But thou shalt grieve when thou art sought no more! 
Alas! thou wretched one, what now is life? 
Who now will seek thee, or who deem thee fair? 
Whom wilt thou love? Or who shall call thee his? 
But thou, Catullus, steel thy heart, endure! 


[ 49 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Carpe Diem* 
(Horace, Odes, II, 3) 


AIL not to keep, when Troubles sore oppress, 
A Mind that wavers not in Storm and Stress, 
And when the Winds of favoring Fortune blow, 
Tempt not thy Fate by wanton Recklessness. 


For never canst thou doff thy mortal Shape, 

Though Sorrow like a Shroud thy Soul may drape, 
Or if on some sequestered grassy Bank 

Thou dost make merry with the jocund Grape. 


Look to the Pine and Poplar, how they shed 

A grateful coolness o’er thy weary Head, 
While at thy Feet the fretting Streamlet glides 

And hurries seaward down its winding Bed. 


Bring Wine and Perfume hither, where still blows 
The short-lived blossom of the lovely Rose, 

While Youth and Fortune have their little Hour, 
Ere yet the Hand of Fate your Record close. 


*With apologies to Edw. Fitzgerald. 
[ 50 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Your Villa by the tawny Tiber’s wave, 
Home, Herds and Meadows — all your Heart may 
crave — 
Tomorrow, will or nil, you must resign: 
Your Heir shall spend what you have toiled to save. 


Whether from Inachus your race you ery, 
Or poor and nameless linger neath the Sky, 

Not Wealth nor Birth may stay your destined Hour, 
Nor ruthless Orcus spare you by and by. 


Your Life and mine may none save One discern; 
Your Lot and mine revolve within the Urn. 

Who knows but soon ’twill mark us for the Bark 
Bound for that Bourne whence none may e’er return? 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Tarquin’s Dream 


(Accius: fragments of the ‘‘ Brutus.’’) 


ef HEN to sweet sleep, as night drew on, I 
gave 

My frame, and slumber wrapt my wearied limbs, 
Methought a shepherd led before my gaze 
His fleecy flock, a sight surpassing fair; 
Wherefrom he chose two rams of kindred blood, 
And I the fairer of the twain did slay; 
Whereat his fellow straight with threat’ning head 
And lowered horns attacked me, and I fell, 
And as all wounded on the ground I lay, 
Behold a wondrous portent: for the sun, 
Leaving his wonted rightward course, did wheel, 
And backward turn his radiant flaming orb.’’ 


[ 52 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


The Interpretation 


9 NOW, O King, that oft in visions pass before 
men unawares 

All their round of daily duties, all their thoughts and 
hopes and cares; 

All that in their waking moments they are wont to 
seek and plan — 

Marvel not! But such a portent speaks a power more 
than man. 

So beware lest he thou deemest dull of sense, a very 
sheep, 

Prove to bear a heart of cunning, fraught with wis- 
dom dark and deep; 

Lest he drive thee from thy kingdom; for the vision 
thou dost tell 

Doth portend a mighty rising of thy people. Mark it 
well; 

Soon will fall the blow — kind heaven grant it pros- 
per !—for the sun 

Back once more hath turned his coursers and his right- 
ward track begun. 

Thus I read the wondrous portent, fraught with joy- 
ous augury ; 

Thus the Roman state shall prosper, called to glorious 
destiny !’’ 

[ 53 ] 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


The Vampire 
(Horace, Odes, I, 8) 


OME, Liddy, I’ve a bone to pick; 
Fess up, you minx, and tell me truly 
Why Sybaris is pale and sick, 
Who once was plump and trim and slick — 
How did you come to turn the trick 
That alters him so cruelly ? 


Why now no more on sunny Pratt 
Does he delight to show his paces, 
Who thought it play to doff his hat 
And do the hundred in ten flat, 
Or line one out from off his bat 
That emptied all the bases? 


Why, shucks! That boy could put the shot 
Clean o’er the westernmost horizon, 
And boot the pigskin ’cross the lot; 
But now he mopes upon his cot, 
And shuns Doe Newport’s water pot 
As though ’twere deadly pizen. 


[ 54 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


No more the springboard in the tank 
Is bent beneath his manly figger. 
I’d really hate to draw a blank 
In guessing why, but to be frank, 
I have a hunch we’ve you to thank 
For Sybie’s lack of vigor. 


Then cease to give him such a dance, 
Where’er your idle fancy leads him; 
He needs athletics, not romance, 
Not evening clothes, but running pants. 
Leave him alone — give him a chance; 
The Amherst track team needs him! 


_ 
Or 
a | 

ed 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


Reflections 
(Ausonius, ‘‘Mosella,’’ 225-239) 


ND as with vying arms their nimble strokes they 
ply 
And urge their vessel ever on in steady flight, 
Lo! in the wave reflects a self-same comrade crew. 
With laugh and shout the sailor-lads behold the sight, 
And marvel at the phantom forms that greet their 
view. 

Even as when a laughing child, ere she display 
Her fresh-combed locks, at careful nurse’s fond behest 
Within a mirror’s shining surface doth behold 
Her baby face, and laughs in glee at this new play, 
Thinking she sees an own twin sister mirrored there; 
And gives sweet kisses to her unresponsive guest, 

Or clutches at the mirrored pins that bind her hair, 
Or strives with eager baby fingers to enfold 
The little dancing curls that cluster round her brow ;— 

So laugh at Nature’s mimicry the sailor crew, 

And joy in shadowy forms that mingle false and true. 


[ 56 | 


ACROSS THE YEARS 


“Exegi Monumentum”’ 
(Horace, Odes, III, 30) 


EHOLD the monument my hands have reared 
To outlast the eternal bronze, and towering high 

O’ertop the pyramids’ majestic pile ; 
Untouched by envious storm, or mad north wind, 
But ever changeless with the changing years. 
Not wholly shall I die! There yet shall be 
Some remnant of my soul unquenchable, 
To wing its deathless way triumphantly 
Down the dim aisles of never-ending time. 
Long as the aged Pontiff toils his way 
With silent Vestal, up the sacred hill 
That crowns our city’s heights, I shall be sung; 
Through countless ages men shall tell my name, 
As one who, born of low estate, where frets 
The roaring Aufidus, that barren land 
Where Daunus ruled his peasant folk of old — 
First to Italian numbers wed the strains 
That echo still from Sappho’s ringing lyre. 
Take the proud honor by thy merit won, 
Melpomene, and of thy gentle grace 
Crown thou my locks with fadeless Delphic bays. 


[ 57 J 








k\ 


This honk ic NTT aw +h~ 1--1 7-: 
University of California 
SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 ¢ Box 951388 
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90095-1388 


Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. 








L 005 839 


I 


PA 
GIGS 
B43a 


ITY 
UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACIL 


ty 
err 


Univers; 
South 


























































































































































































































